BATTLE 



WILFRID WILSON GIBSON 



iOR OF DAILY BREAD, VUll- 

aSD THOROr ., < - -/ 



THE :VIACMILLAN COMPANY 

1015 



BATTLE 



BY 

WILFRID WILSON GIBSON 

AUTHOR OF " DAILY BREAD/' " FIRES/' '^ BORDERLANDS 
AND thoroughfares/' ETC. 



THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
1915 

All rights reserved 






Copyright, 1915 

By the MACMILLAN COMPANY 

Set up and electrotyped. Published , 1915. 



^ 0. /o 

>n!.A4n6J55 



JUN3 J9I5 



BEFORE ACTION 

I sit beside the brazier's glow, 
And, drowsing in the heat, 
I dream of daffodils that blow 
And lambs that frisk and bleat — 

Black lambs that frolic in the snow 
Among the daffodils, 
In a far orchard that I know 
Beneath the Malvern hills. 

Next year the daffodils will blow, 
And lambs will frisk and bleat; 
But I'll not feel the brazier's glow. 
Nor any cold or heat. 



[1] 



BATTLE 



THE BAYONET 

This bloody steel 
Has killed a man. 
I heard him squeal 
As on I ran. 

He watched me come 
With wagging head. 
I pressed it home, 
And he was dead. 

Though clean and clear 
I've wiped the steel, 
I still can hear 
That dying squeal. 



m 



THE QUESTION 



THE QUESTION 

I wonder if the old cow died or not. 

Gey bad she was the night I left, and sick. 

Dick reckoned she would mend. He knows a 

lot— 
At least he fancies so himself, does Dick. 

Dick knows a lot. But maybe I did wrong 
To leave the cow to him, and come away. 
Over and over like a silly song 
These words keep bumming in my head all 
day. 

And all I think of, as I face the foe 

And take my lucky chance of being shot. 

Is this — that if I'm hit, I'll never know 

Till Doomsday if the old cow died or not. 

[3] 



BATTLE 



DEAF 

This day last year I heard the curlew calling 
By Hallypike 

And the clear tinkle of hill-waters falling 
Down slack and syke. 

But now I cannot hear the shrapnel's scream- 
ing, 
The screech of shells : 
And if again I see the blue lough gleaming 
Among the fells 

Unheard of me will be the curlew's calling 
By Hallypike 

And the clear tinkle of hill-waters falling 
Down slack and syke. 



[4] 



MAD 



MAD 

Neck-deep in mud, 
He mowed and raved— 
He who had braved 
The field of blood— 

And as a lad 
Just out of school 
Yelled: '^4pril fool!'' 
And laughed like mad. 



[5] 



BATTLE 



RAINING 

The night I left my father said: 
''You'll go and do some stupid thing. 
You've no more sense in that fat head 
Than Silly Billy Witterling. 

"Not sense to come in when it rains — 
Not sense enough for that, you've got. 
You'll get a bullet through your brains, 
Before you know, as like as not." 

And now I'm lying in the trench 
And shells and bullets through the night 
Are raining in a steady drench, 
I'm thinking the old man was right. 



[6] 



SPORT 



SPORT 

And such a morning for cubbing — 
The dew so thick on the grass ! 
Two hares are lolloping just out of range 
Scattering the dew as they pass. 

A covey of partridge whirrs overhead 
Scatheless, and gets clean away; 
For it's other and crueller, crafteir game 
We're out for and after to-day! 



[7] 



BATTLE 



HIS FATHER 

I quite forgot to put the spigot in. 
It's just come over me. . . . And it is queer 
To think he'll not care if we lose or win 
And yet be jumping-mad about that beer. 

I left it running full. He must have said 
A thing or two. I'd give my stripes to hear 
What he will say if I'm reported dead 
Before he gets me told about that beer ! 



18} 



THE DANCERS 



THE DANCERS 

All day beneath the hurtling shells 
Before my burning eyes 
Hover the dainty demoiselles — 
The peacock dragon-flies. 

Unceasingly they dart and glance 
Above the stagnant stream — 
And I am fighting here in France 
As in a senseless dream — 

A dream of shattering black shells 
That hurtle overhead, 
And dainty dancing demoiselles 
Above the dreamless dead. 



m 



BATTLE 



VICTORY 

I watched it oozing quietly 
Out of the gaping gash. 
The lads thrust on to victory 
With lunge and curse and crash. 

Half -dazed, that uproar seemed to me 

Like some old battle-sound 

Heard long ago, as quietly 

His blood soaked in the ground. 

The lads thrust on to victory 
With lunge and crash and shout. 
I lay and watched, as quietly 
His life was running out. 



[101 



